The Biggest Loser: for a show about
trimming off the fat, this endless series certainly hasn’t.

Channel Ten’s The Biggest Loser is cunningly disingenuous. “Ah, this must be some sort of competition,” you say, until you’re made to feel a cynical fool when you realise the “loser” refers to weight. “Silly me. What a lovely show, and what a clever title for exposing my reality TV-slanted way of thinking.”

Think again. Episode 32 (count them – for a show about trimming off the fat, the series certainly hasn’t) saw TBL whittling down the contestants to a final four, in a unique blend of weight-loss and every-other-show-on-television: a tense pause during a deliberation; ruddy-faced “contestants” making their plea to stay on the show; a long, drawn-out vote after which the person least successful at being healthy had to shuffle off through a door at the back of the studio. Ha ha! That’s more like it. Yeah, get off the show you big loser.

I want to like TBL. It is, after all, a show that objectively improves the lives of its contestants; the exact opposite of The Singing Mouth Quest (or whatever) which gives annoying people a fame-lifespan of minutes before their dreams snuff it and they end up dead on an ad somewhere, like some kind of cultural mayfly. Why then the need to tack on the tropes of reality TV for the sake of drumming up some additional, poorly-fitting tension? What’s next: Australia’s Got Heart Disease? Isn’t the struggle of seeing the reluctantly obese claw back years of their life compelling enough?

No, no of course not. We want to see fat people turn on each other, transforming the act of becoming healthy into a crucible of jealousy, alliances and rivalries. Chuck in a tribal council and it may as well be Survivor: Burgers v Bagels v Baskin Robbins. “Yes, but it makes for good TV” you may say, but just remember that what makes for good TV isn’t necessarily … good.

Speaking of which, lured by the promise of a “TV event”, I foolishly tuned in to The Big Bang Theory (Tuesdays, 8.40, Channel 9) to watch “the kiss”. Perhaps I set my expectations rather high due to the relentless promotion, which made the kiss out to be some not-to-be-missed moment in television history, even more enthralling than the Moon Landing had Neil Armstrong taken off his helmet halfway through his speech. Do you understand? Even seeing the face of the first human on the moon scatter in a bubbly mess before gently sloshing into Buzz Aldrin's visor has nothing on this goddamn kiss. Got it?

In the end, I think the significance of the kiss will perhaps need to be explained to me by the 2.7m Australians watching it, who were presumably less baffled than me as to why anyone would give a toss.

I’ve tried to like The Big Bang Theory multiple times because – like my psoriasis – it keeps spreading, and apparently there's no cure. I was never a '90s yuppie, nor a lawyer or doctor, yet I’ve successfully sat in front of Friends, Ally McBeal and Scrubs without jamming a fork in my throat. So, despite not being a physicist, I ought to be able to enjoy BBT without wanting to destroy my television and then hack my arms off just to make sure I don't accidentally call a TV repair company. Maybe one day, but certainly not based on this latest dose.

In episode 15, Amy takes her boyfriend (Sheldon - a chimera lazily conjured by scriptwriters trying to tick every single geek box) for a romantic Valentine's Day dinner on a vintage locomotive, because that’s the only way he’ll go. So far, so Vagina 0 : Penis 1. Sheldon predictably ignores her in favour of indulging his train obsession, because hard-done-to women in 2014 are still apparently funny, and being a geek still equals being a lamentable arsehole (just dump him Amy, and find yourself a Neil deGrasse Tyson). It all culminates in a standoff where Amy highlights her neglect, only to be silenced by "the kiss", after which all is seemingly forgiven. That was the kiss? Forget Armstrong's frothy cloud space face – watching a snail circumnavigate a shallow puddle would have been more enthralling.

Perhaps I’m too old to find “Girls? Uuurgh, yuckie!” humour amusing, but it does seem BBT has become Sheldon’s own spinoff show at the expense of any female agency, which is unfortunate given he’s less appealing than a barbed-wire-and-groin flavoured Toblerone. Attempted nerd fare it may be, but this “treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen” episode seemed little more than a particularly blokey instalment of Two and a Half Men, thinly disguised with enough train gags to make geeks think it was written with them in mind.

The week’s best, genuine boffin experience: Forget faux nerdery with a laugh track, and enjoy a pleasant time with the affably informative team on Trust Me I’m a Doctor. If you love your coffee, or want to know where you’re most exposed to car pollution, then check it out on iView before it expires. Sleekly cut and genuinely stimulating.